Batman: Closure
by RiddleMeFreeze
Summary: After he and his allies manage to rid the world of crime, Batman is frozen by eeze in order to return when he is needed. 100 years later, Batman emerges into an entirely different world than he remembers. One held tightly in the grip of its ruler: The Reborn Batman. Bruce searches desperately to discover the identity of the figure and the fate of his allies and family.


Christopher Buchanan

Christopher Buchanan _Batman: Closure_

 _ **Batman: Closure**_

 _ **By Christopher Buchanan**_

"It has been an honor, sir. Goodbye, Master Bruce." Alfred's trembling voice abruptly disappeared from Bruce's radio. The farewell was too short for Alfred to understand the impact he had in saving an orphaned life, Bruce thought. Any farewell would be. The events of his childhood should have set him down a life of depression and failure. But Alfred changed that. He could have left the manor after the Wayne's death, but he refused. He took a broken child and created a man. He deserved better, Bruce thought. The man who raised him deserved more sincere final words.

The ice had crawled to Bruce's waist; the only feeling his mind was registering was rage that burned so hot, the ice should have melted. "Victor, enough. This isn't what Nora would've wanted!" he shouted at Freeze, as if he were trying to break his cold tomb with his voice. The subzero stream emitted by Freeze's frosted chrome ray did not falter. The emotionless face within the towering, war-machine of a suit flickered. Eyebrows pushed down on the red goggles which covered lifeless eyes, as Freeze moved towards Batman.

"Do not lecture me on what it is my wife would have wanted, Batman. You could not be more misinformed on the matter," the robotic voice-box spoke for Victor Fries. "This is not solely for her, can you not see? I am contributing to a better future. A future fit for my Nora." He pulled his finger off the trigger.

The cold had tightened its grip around Bruce's nervous system, making his thoughts seem frozen too. One thought was clear: he was in this situation because of a stupid, childish mistake. They had received so many distress calls for relief following the Darkseid Incident that he got lazy. Victor was smart to wait until the relief calls became routine before he calling in his own, luring Bruce to a desolate warehouse.

"I am not like the imbecile "super-villains" you continuously associate me with, Batman," Freeze continued. "I have always viewed you as an inconvenience, rather than an enemy. I understand the impact you have in ways that the others couldn't possibly comprehend. Which is why I am freezing you with a new formula. One that will not kill you, but preserve you. It is ironically fitting that the surviving members of the Justice League following Darkseid's invasion were the most capable. The alleged 'trinity.' The need for crimefighters has long since passed."

Victor's intentions became as clear to Bruce as the ice that encapsulated him. "Y-you need help, Victor."

"Batman, you and your colleagues have succeeded in eradicating crime on this planet. Perhaps it is a gift from society for fending off Darkseid. Perhaps they are frightened. Regardless, your talents would be better suited for when they are needed, rather than being eroded by time. Your enemies are locked securely away by ARGUS. This is a favor, Batman. When I cure Nora, I hope you will return it by protecting her world with the same vigilance as you have this one."

Bruce struggled to construct his thoughts. Victor was deranged, blinded by his obsessive love for Nora. He would do anything for her, and that's what concerned Bruce. Fries wasn't bluffing. "The world won't stay this way," Bruce stated. "It needs to be monitored. People need to be reassured that they're in safe hands. Without reassurance, they'll descend into chaos."

"Goodbye, Batman. You have completed your mission. Pray you never have to wake up." Freeze's finger pressed on the trigger as the ice crawled around Bruce's neck and consumed him. The only thing it left in its place was blackness.

A conscious blackness. Bruce's thoughts bounced around his head like sounds in a tunnel. What seem like hours pass, with visions of falling pearls and the sound of maniacal laughter serving as his only company. But while his subconscious fixated on these memories, one thought remained consistently present, like a scar he couldn't get rid of. Every second he drifted in this cryogenic realm, every vision that passed, he was failing someone. A woman being mugged. A child being kidnapped. Dick. Barbara. James. Lucius.

Alfred.

Air stabbed Bruce's chest like a jackhammer, continuously burning his lungs. He could only open his eyes a sliver, but the light stung. Beads of cold water shone on his face and ran down his neck like a waterfall. The outside light tried to break through his eyelids, as if they were an indestructible safe. He felt himself fall forward and hit the ground, but there was no pain. His body was numb from Freeze's preservation. Questions swarmed his mind like a military invasion, making it difficult for Bruce to focus on anything but breathing. Then it came again. The laughter, mocking him in his state of insanity. Pull it together, Bruce thought. You've been gone for God knows how long, you need to alert Alfred.

Slowly, he opened his eyelids and let his pupils adjust to the screaming rays of the sun. Bruce lay on the cold concrete ground of the abandoned warehouse. Shelving units were toppled over one another, spiderwebs laced the ceiling like decoration while vegetation crawled along the walls. About five feet away, was a chair holding a hunched over creature. Bruce crawled along the ground with what strength he could gather, until he could make out the being.

Accompanied by slow, distorted breathing was a rusted suit with blue lights flickering along its arms. Bruce looked up at the head of the machine to see the glowing aura of red in the reflection of glass. A shriveled white face rested behind it. Freeze.

"V-victor…" Bruce managed to push out, draining any energy he had. The mechanical figure stirred and looked at Bruce. The glass faceplate which once glimmered had several cracks in it and the arm-plates on the suit had long since fallen off.

"There you are," the voice wheezed. It sounded more devoid of life than Bruce remembered. "I am…" the voice paused, "truly sorry."

"How long has it-"

"One hundred years," Freeze stated, cutting Bruce off.

That's impossible, Bruce thought. His mind swirled with thoughts of anger and confusion. "You're lying. I'm done with your games, Victor. You wouldn't have survived that long."

A sigh was released from the suit, sounding almost admittedly disappointed. "It seems this suit which gives me life has granted me the curse of an extended one. One which has… long surpassed the only other existence I dared to care for."

Bruce frowned, one hand raised in the air to block out the sun. "Nora?"

"I did save her, yes. Eventually. I nursed her in these cold metal arms as she opened her eyes for the first time in decades. She smiled as she stretched out. Like she was waking from a nap. And I felt… I felt pure warmth. I was concerned my appearance would frighten her, but as always, she saw through me. Through the metal and cold, through the alarming exterior features I have adopted, and saw my core." Victor voice quivered, he straightened up in the chair and cleared his throat. "She said to me, 'Victor, do you remember the feeling of all four seasons?' I was confused, I asked her to clarify. She whispered, like an angel, 'For so long, you've been trapped in the harshest of all seasons. I wished so desperately for you to save me, not for myself, but so that you may feel the warmth of summer once more. The joy of spring. The renewal of autumn." A single tear was rappelling down Victor's cheek, leaving a warm streak in its midst. "She told me…she said that she could see in my eyes that I felt them all. I wept, told her how deeply I love her. She kissed the glass that shields my face and said her final words. 'I love you more.' And then she passed, in my arms." The room was silent. Bruce stared at Victor, who lay slumped over. "You understand now, Batman," Victor choked on his words, "that there is truly nothing in this cursed world left for me to live for. This suit has allowed me to sample the sour taste of immortality and made me watch my beloved die. That is not something I could dream of lying about. One hundred years."

"I'm sorry, Victor," Bruce replied. He knew the sting of loss more than anyone, he empathized with Victor. One hundred years had passed since he froze Bruce. What state was the world in? And his family? He needed closure and Freeze had answers. "The Joker."

"Ah, I figured you would wonder about the clown," Fries grimaced at the thought. "He met an interesting end."

"How many?"

"What?"

"How many did he kill since I've been gone?"

Victor chuckled. A rare occurrence. "In the end, I guess the clown was bitterly comedic."

"How many, Victor?!" Bruce yelled between his teeth. He'd had enough ambiguity.

"None."

"None?"

Another chuckle. "The rumors circulated for months about your disappearance-"

Bruce interjected. "A disappearance you caused, an unnecessary one. Any blood spilt in my absence is on YOU, Freeze."

Victor paused, letting that thought sink in, then continued. "Joker escaped," Bruce grimaced, "and held the city carnival hostage. When you failed to show, he released everyone. I believe he compared it to 'doing top notch comedy with no audience to laugh at the jokes." A long pause. "He killed himself in a truck stop bathroom. There was no elaborate exit because there was no audience to appreciate it. His 'puddin' followed shortly thereafter."

Bruce took a moment. There was something about the Joker disappearing after Batman that didn't sit right with him. As if all of the death and turmoil was created by the Batman's presence, could he have prevented it all along if Batman never existed? He built up the strength to sit up. "And the others?" he asked.

"Hunted down and killed."

"…All of them?"

Freeze nodded.

"By who?" Bruce asked. Conflicting feelings of closure and uncertainty stormed in his head.

Victor inhaled deeply. "The Batman."

Freeze was never one to joke, but Bruce found himself questioning if the cold soul suddenly developed a sense of humor. "I find it hard to believe you'd be the sole survivor in such a case."

"For years I evaded them, motivated by Nora. When she passed, I made it my mission to get to you. To fix what I caused. I am sorry, Batman. Believe me when I say that. But I made it here to unthaw you, I figured I owed you that much."

Bruce stood up and stumbled. His legs felt like toothpicks that were about to break. Step by step, he moved towards the light breaking through the warehouse door.

"You do not have to believe me, Bruce," Victor called. Bruce stopped. "But you should."

Bruce's heart seemed to stop. "What?" How could he know?

"When the Batman disappeared, Bruce Wayne went as well. For such a high profile individual, the government conducted an investigation. They went to Wayne Manor and found the butler, who they believed to had conspired against you in order to obtain your wealth."

No. The uncertainty ate Bruce alive, a black hole formed in his stomach.

"They found the cave, Wayne. Your colleagues were all arrested by order of the Reborn Batman."

Bruce targeted a fallen shelving unit and got hold of it, but his arms had shriveled weak from a century of inexperience. Freeze tossed a vial of blue, glowing liquid towards him.

"To regenerate your strength. To revive the Batman," Victor commented.

Bruce drank the vial, the blue substance felt like liquid fire as it snaked through his veins and muscles. He couldn't tell if the heat was generated from the liquid or his anger. He moved to the shelving unit. His costume remained soggy, but moved with agility. Bruce felt his cape swoop behind him as he lifted the shelving unit and threw it across the room with an agonizing yell. He paced towards Victor, still hunched in his chair. "Who is he? The new Batman?"

Victor coughed, "No one knows. A man makes promises and lost individuals listen. When the man gains power and fails to stay true to those promises, the people have no choice but to follow."

This Reborn Batman will pay, Bruce swore with the same determination he felt as a child. For Alfred.

"The butler?" Bruce asked, not wanting to know the answer.

Victor stood up and looked Batman in the eye, "When it regards the ones closest to us, it is best to find out for ourselves." The men stared into each other's eyes.

"I'll make this right, Victor. Stay here, you'll be safe." Bruce commanded.

Victor revealed a slight smile. "I think I'm going to join my Nora now, Batman. She'd be pleased that as I depart this earth, I leave it with a last chance for hope. The beginning of a season of spring." Bruce nodded. Victor turned away and paced, "For the sake of humanity, for innocence, good luck-" Victor looked back. Only the wind was present in the warehouse. "Batman."

Hundreds of active televisions stacked upon one another surrounded a hooded figure, seated in front of a control panel. The light from the screens served as the only illumination in the barren room. Each television held the name of major cities with a constant cycle of viewpoints. New York, London, Metropolis, Tokyo. All sharing one attribute: silence. The sidewalks had become overgrown with vines that seemed to be engaging in battle with one another. The streets were ghost-towns.

A flicker danced across Keystone City's screen. A man, sprinting alone down a street lit by a sun eclipsed by skyscrapers. The man franticly looked around in expectation. Tucked beneath his arm was a loaf of bread and wheel of cheese. The hooded figure raised his hand in the air in a controlled manner, a signal to wait.

The man ran through what used to be a gas station entrance. The camera view changed to see him reach the back of the store, locking a door behind him. Slowly, two young girls came into frame, followed by an adult woman. The hooded figure scoffed. A family. He dropped his arm and immediately the door on screen flew off its hinges. The girls screamed, the father's face trembled. Weakness. Entering the room were two warriors. Their blinding chrome armor was streamlined and flexible, allowing them to move into the room and corner the family in a matter of seconds. Their faces were masked in a black, metal mask that left only their eyes visible. Most noticeable however, was their chest. Painted upon the chrome, in bright red, was a bat. The red streaked down below the symbol like blood dripping from a wound. The hooded figure sat forward, pressed a button on his control panel and grabbed a microphone.

"You know who I am. You know what I am capable of and yet, you proceed to test me. To push me to my limit." The voice of the hood was mature and controlled. Powerful. It seemed to communicate years of experience in few words. Its calm tone echoed within the room.

"Please! Sir, we're hungry. My girls haven't eaten for days, I-" the man pleaded. He stood in front of his family, arms extended.

"Your greed, citizen, is what jeopardizes the world peace we have worked so hard to sustain. Theft is a crime punishable by death."

"Every crime is to you. You demons! Please, my family-" the man's voice struggled to remain powerful as fear began to take over.

"You need not worry about your family. They will see you as an example. A vision of what not to become. You understand by now citizen, that we live in a perfect world. Only the worthy are permitted to survive. The vermin die. Now look at your family," ordered the hood. The shaking man looked to his crying daughters and wife. "Look… and know that you failed them." The figure let go of the microphone as a blur from the warriors dropped the man to the ground, lifeless. Screams drowned the speakers temporarily, before they were muted as the hood turned away. The darkness of the room concealed his features. A warrior, resembling the ones on the screen, entered from the shadows.

"Sir, it's happening, as you predicted. Wayne has returned, we've spotted him perched above a warehouse in Park Row. What's our move?" the soldier asked.

Despite the darkness of the room, the twisting of facial muscles into a smile was visible on the hood's face. "Test him."

"Right away, Batman."

Bruce observed the world around him from the roof of the warehouse. The once crowded skyline of Gotham was clear. The skyscrapers left were either toppled, ruined or overgrown, with the exception of one. Wayne Tower glimmered as if it had just been cleaned. The sun bounced off its infinite windows and seemed to deliver light to the entire city. Bruce looked to the sky, but the blue painting he remembered was gone. The occasional cloud floated above him but the sky had taken on a green hue. Why. Bruce questioned. He set his cowl to run a diagnostic on the atmosphere. There were so many answers he needed, he couldn't waste any more time observing. He took out his grapnel gun, hoping it was still functional. The trigger was pulled and the refreshing zing of the claw moving against the air relieved Bruce. He swung to an overpass. Whoever this supposed "Batman" was, he succeeded in making this city eerily quiet. Bruce noticed a church below. On the brick walls was a piece of graffiti time had begun to erase. He could make out a robust depiction of Superman, with a glowing image of Wonder Woman placed to the right of it. Between them was a silhouette larger than either image. Beneath, written in bold, white letters, read "WHAT IS A TRINITY WITHOUT ITS SPIRIT?"

Before Bruce could react, he was hit hard in the side and knocked off his feet. Lower right abdomen, Bruce thought. Deep bruising at most. A blow ran across his jaw like a locomotive, carrying him to the right. That one carried a little more than deep bruising. He scanned the area and stood up, there was no one in sight. From behind him, there was an inconsistency in the wind. A whistling. Bruce launched to his left as his attacker rolled on the ground, facing him. Some kind of armored soldier, Bruce thought. His recovery from the fall demonstrated training in jujitsu but the way he wielded his katana exhibited knowledge of kensyobudo. This was no street thug. None of this bothered Bruce, however. What irritated him was the chest. A bleeding bat against the shining silver armor plate. That was his symbol.

Bruce recognized a weak point between the shoulder. He attacked, but instead of the soft impact he was expecting, his hand met an abrupt stop. A distraction. His opponent quickly drove the hilt of the sword into the back of Bruce's leg, twisting his exposed arm at the same time. Bruce hit the ground like it was a brick wall. The whiplash ached down his spine. He went to leap up, but the katana blade against his neck caused him to lower back down.

"My, my. It seems you're a little out of practice, detective." A voice was coming from the soldier, but it sounded like a radio. Bruce recognized it, though he wasn't sure how. Freeze said all the villains were killed and even if they escaped, it's impossible they'd be alive today. "Normally, I'd come down and duel you myself but, well, I want a worthy fight. An honorable one. One that doesn't end with your death in fifteen seconds. You see, I've waited a long time for this moment. The truth is, I want to savor it. I mean, you must be on the brink of insanity with all the questions running through that mind! So, I'll assist you. I will help you understand the magnitude of my accomplishments. And then, when you've discovered the fate of your family and allies, I'll relieve you from this life." The speaker wasn't maniacal or lost. He was controlled and calculated, every word exerted dominance. "Come to Wayne Enterprises, Bruce. Witness what happened to your legacy. Of course, no one is forcing you to come. If you fail to arrive in the next five minutes however, I will kill the remaining citizens of Gotham. But you have no idea how many people that is, do you, Wayne? It doesn't matter. You'd show anyway. Closure is a powerful gift to a man."

The soldier disappeared along with the voice. Bruce stood to his feet. All that remained was wind. Whispers from the souls he has failed.

 _Wayne Enterprises_

The grapnel gun wrapped around the balcony railing with fury, propelling Bruce over the ledge. The cape caught the excess air and cushioned him as he touched down in front of his office. He used to use this balcony as a convenient exit when his real job called to him. Who knows the purposes it has served over the last century.

He kicked in the office door to find a hurricane had been there first. Desks were overturned, shattered into microscopic splinters. The windows that once opened to the nightlife of Gotham were either cracked or gone. The Wayne family portrait that once hung elegantly from the oak wall was torn, his parents cut out of the painting. He was alone at the beginning of his journey, and alone at the end. A small pool of dried blood lay entrusted in the carpet at the center of the room. Bruce turned on his detective scanner to identify the DNA.

His cowl read: "DNA: James Gordon."

Jim. Because of me, Bruce thought. I've failed. This world has suffered because of my ignorance. He looked further and found two more stains closely. Barbara Gordon. Lucius Fox. Because of me.

The false Batman's voice came over a nearby speaker. "You see, Batman, this wasn't my intention when I took up the cowl. For years, you refused to embrace your true destiny and face me in a fight to the death. When the whispers began to spread of your disappearance, I did not give them a second thought. I know you, Wayne. You would give yourself before you let another member of your family die. I assume the first incident weighed too heavily on you. So I waited for a decade. And you refused to poke your head out. I baited you. A test. I took three of your most trusted allies and threatened their lives." The voice inhaled deeply, pausing to let what he said sink. "They died waiting for you. They died in disappointment."

Bruce gritted his teeth. For years, he had held onto one rule religiously. But if the man behind the voice was in front of him in this moment, he would break it. "You are going to pay for what you've done. Where are you?!" Bruce yelled.

"Not yet, Bruce. Just a little left to learn. I hope you understand, I didn't only go after your family. Those 'villains' that dragged you down for years, I handled as well. I'd been dreaming of breaking the Riddler's neck for a long time." A sentimental laugh. "Go to the Gotham Circus tent, Batman. Come find out what happened to the Boy Wonder." The voice switched off but echoed through the office.

Bruce couldn't stay in the office any longer. He knelt down, as his allies must have, he felt his muscles tense with anger. "I will make this right," he whispered. His voice faltered. "I'm sorry." He grappled out of the office, closing his eyes.

As he moved from building to building, Bruce concentrated on which of his enemies was smart enough, regardless of manpower, to carry out this plan. At times like these, he would rely on Alfred to search databases and compile evidence, but he couldn't. And when Alfred relied on Bruce to save him, he-

Bruce interrupted his train of thought. He couldn't be distracted, finding who the Reborn Batman was would lead him to discovering Alfred's fate. He just wasn't sure if he was ready to. Massive monitors were on display throughout Gotham, depicting cities across the world in their state of silence. Bruce noticed one that stood out. Paradise Island. Below the title on the screen, in large red letters, read "Eliminated." The Amazons must have been overrun by the Reborn's forces… Diana, Bruce remembered. His cowl alerted him, he switched it on.

"Earth-Prime atmosphere showing high levels of kryptonite present."

The green hue, Bruce realized. The Reborn must have figured out a way to distribute a massive supply of kryptonite into the Earth's atmosphere in order to keep the one person who could have stopped him, away. Bruce looked into the sky, imagining the guilt Clark has put on himself. But it couldn't come close to the amount Bruce felt as he observed his fallen city.

The circus tent came into view, its vibrant red and yellow pattern had blended to appear shaded white. The entrance flaps that once welcomed joy and excitement had fallen off. Now the tent only invited those who sought pain, suffering and answers. Bruce entered the tent. The center ring could easily have been mistaken for a landfill. Empty boxes of popcorn were worn down by time and were carried by the wind. The chairs were broken and infected by dust. A nightmare, Bruce thought. At the center of the ring was a chain hanging from the roof.

"Poetic, isn't it, Batman?" The voice returned, filling the tent. "The young Grayson's life began in a circus tent, I thought I owed him the courtesy of ending it the same."

Dick wouldn't have gone down without a fight, Bruce thought. He had taught the boy well. It seemed absurd now, Bruce reflected, but he always hoped Dick would carry the mantle one day. Succeed him. But Nightwing— Nightwing would have died honorably. Bruce walked to the center. "What do you want, you damned coward?" His yell resonated.

"For you to understand, Wayne. You know for a period of time, I thought you had grown up. That you had learned to separate yourself from those you cared for, in order to further your mission. Barbara, James, Lucius. I almost believed they meant nothing to you. But Batman, you're smart. So I treated your assistant as a penultimate challenge. Of course, you didn't show," Bruce tensed. "But the former Boy Wonder certainly did. He put thirty of my men into intensive treatment, Batman. Thirty. Before I intervened."

"This ends tonight," called Bruce, fists clenched white. "Enough games. Enough taunts. Just you and me."

The voice had no response for a moment, then excitedly came over the speaker. "I took up the cowl for a reason, detective. People trust the symbol of the Bat because of you, but don't look to see who's behind the mask. A blind trust. You used the cowl to instill fear in the hearts of your enemies, and at the same time, developed a mutual respect between society and yourself. I came in, made promises of a perfect world, and delivered. Only the pure exist on this earth."

"Not while you and your forces are on it," Bruce shot.

A chuckle. "Wayne Manor, Batman. Prove your worth. Come take your place, hero. Claim the title your family failed to uphold."

Before the last word was muttered, the Dark Knight was already airborne.

 _Wayne Manor_

The elegant mansion looked like an old tree about to uproot. A path was paved perfectly amongst overgrown grass leading to the entrance of the Bat-cave. Bruce was expected and he welcomed it. The lives lost because of his mistakes, his absence, would be honored. For their sake and for Bruce's. The cowl was detecting alarmingly high rates of kryptonite radiation here. Bruce noticed a green beam shooting from the Bat-cave into the sky. Whatever was causing the atmosphere to be contaminated was located here. He stood in front of the barricaded entrance, it felt like hours since he last said the word, but knew it had been a century.

"Open."

The gears creaked, the wall split horizontally and revealed the cave. Bruce prepared for the worst, regarding Alfred. If he was killed by this Reborn Batman, Bruce had nothing left to live for, especially not his rule.

He entered the main chamber, the water rippled where the Bat-boat once was. The cave was filled with a green aura, Bruce assumed from the kryptonite. Cobwebs hung over the Bat-Computer and the nocturnal creatures screeched and swirled, welcoming him. Standing elevated on the stairs across from him was his target.

He was built, but slim, making it easy for him to move quickly. His armor resembled that of his guards, with a few additions. His wrists held contractable blades, allowing him to move in close for a swift, unexpected kill. His shoulders were heavily armored with lightweight padding beneath them, creating greater momentum for tackling opponents. His mask was simple. It was Bruce's first. Long ears, slanted eyes. It would be a familiar sight for the world, one that would have betrayed them.

"The butler, surprisingly, proved to be the most difficult." The Reborn Bat motioned to a large accumulation of boulders. "He barricaded himself in that tunnel and blew the entrance. The old bastard killed fifty men," he laughed. "But I'm sure the bats gave him an honorable death."

Bruce grappled onto the staircase and transitioned into a takedown, but the false Batman evaded. Bruce crashed on the catwalk and charged at the imposter. He landed a blow to the knee, but the armor absorbed the majority of the shock. The Bat retaliated with a punch that grazed Bruce's skull. The blade from his wrist narrowly missed Bruce's neck. Bruce countered, grasping the arm of his opponent and twisting it, provoking a yell. He felt impact in his chest, the Bat's other arm. The figure jumped down.

"Have you figured it out yet, Bruce?" the familiar voice called. "Who has proven to be your greatest challenge? Who destroyed your family?"

Bruce's yell shook the cave, he jumped down, planting both feet in his opponent's chest. He planted fist after fist into the imposter's mask in a fit of fury. The Bat rolled from beneath him and escaped.

"Get angry, Batman. Kill me, succeed me…" the false Batman led on, as the two men came to a standstill. He moved his hand to the old mask and slowly removed it.

Bruce's eyes narrowed. It made sense now, all of it. It was a game, a trial for him. The imposter wanted to be killed, it was the only way he could be relieved.

"Take your rightful place as the next Ra's Al Ghūl," said the Reborn Batman. The black hair laced with grey indicated decades of existence, as opposed to centuries. His goatee was long, but smooth. A smile spread menacingly across his face.

"I'm not going to kill you, Ra's," said Bruce, though he was violently tempted to. Executing him meant Ra's would win.

"Why not, Batman? It is a pure world. Our many purges have ensured only the strongest and worthy walk this earth. Your absence allowed the League of Assassins to secure our utopia much faster than we anticipated."

"The Lazarus Pit has warped you, Ra's. You've committed mass-genocide on behalf of an ancient belief. And you're going to feel the wrath of every soul you've extinguished."

"Superman already tried to prevent it, Batman. But it seems my Lazarus Pit was home to a very generous deposit of kryptonite that Mr. Luthor was more than happy to circulate into the air, before we removed him of course." Ra's paced the cave, acting in control.

Bruce looked to his right. Located approximately fifteen feet away was the Kryptonite Converter. A machine the size of an electrical generator shot the green gas into the air. If I can spray explosive gel at the base of the generator, I should be able to disrupt communication between the kryptonite and aerosol gases, stopping production and knocking the machine into the water, Bruce planned. He looked back at Ra's.

"The world can only further if blood is spilt, Batman. Purify it completely, by taking mine," the Demon said confidently.

Bruce focused on his enemy. All the lives lost, the souls tortured by this monster, must be remembered. Dick. James. Lucius. Barbara.

Alfred.

"I won't give you the satisfaction," said Batman. He sprung into action, throwing a batarang at a weak point in the ceiling, distracting Ra's with small falling stalactites. He attacked the generator, spraying the gel and detonating it in quick succession, knocking its foundation loose. With a cry, he began pushing the machine into the water. He could feel Ra's running after him. Push, Bruce. Ra's made impact, but the combined weight teetered the machine, causing it to splash. Through the hole in the cave, Bruce could see the green vanish in the atmosphere. Ra's had pinned him, beating his head repeatedly.

"You are the worthy successor! KILL ME!" Ra's screamed.

Bruce responded. "Clark!" He brought his knee up and kicked Ra's in the chest, propelling him back. A series of punches delivered so quick, Barry Allen would be jealous, landed across Ra's body. Each carrying the memory of someone lost. Ra's fell to the ground, exhausted and static. A rumbling was felt as a speeding bullet crashed through the roof of the cave. The Man of Tomorrow had arrived.

Bruce looked into Ra's eyes. "You're going to spend the rest of your mortal life wishing for death. And no one will have the decency to give it to you." He looked at a surprised Superman, who seemed confused by the entire situation. "Apokolips. Leave him there, I'll explain."

Superman frowned, "Understood. But Bruce, do you need any medical assist-"

"I'm fine," Bruce cut him off. He went to the medical table and took out the first aid kit.

Superman slung Ra's over his shoulder and walked towards Bruce, producing a piece of paper. "Bruce, I was ordered to give this to you, if I ever saw you again. It's from-"

"I know, thank you." Bruce took the paper and watched as the blue blur disappeared. He unfolded the note and began to read. Tears formed in his eyes.

"Ghastly stuff out here, Master Bruce, I do wish you'd hurry back and somehow save the day. But I'm aware this time is different. I'm aware you'll be called into action, well, when you're ready I suppose. Master Kent managed to steal me from my self-imposed Bat-Cave barricade, with the remaining energy he had left. He transferred me to a safe planet, but one I cannot properly pronounce for the life of me. I'm substantially older now, Master Bruce. I've told Master Kent to deliver this to you should the two of you meet (peacefully.) You've taught me more than I can elaborate on in my state, but I want to thank you. For an eventful life, a meaningful life, and one that inspired others. Your parents would be magnificently proud of what you've accomplished and what you mean to this world. I am, more than I can express. While I may leave this world soon, I look forward to serving you in the next one (thought not too soon, I hope.)

Love,

Alfred"

Closure.


End file.
